Back Home Again
by IAmOnlyMe
Summary: We have a general idea of what happened to each individual after The Outsiders, but what about the gang as a whole? Who's to say that everyone stayed in touch?
1. Anywhere but here

**Author's Note: **This is set 25 years after The Outsiders and is from Ponyboy's POV. It contains tie-ins with Marauder and the Q's amazing Steve-centered story, Cogs in the Machine, which I highly suggest you check out. It deals with Steve's life as a drug counselor in present day. But enough rambling.

Any and all constructuve criticism, suggestions and reviews are always welcome.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. Marauder and the Q owns some plot ideas and character structures.

* * *

With a rush of panic, I nearly turned around and got right back on the plane I just stepped off of. I wasn't ready for this; I just couldn't do it.

"Honey?" Nancy furrowed her brow, staring at me in concern. She set a soft hand on my arm, the wedding band smooth and cool against my heated skin. Lord, I was starting to sweat… surely returning home shouldn't be this hard.

I forced a smile to my face in an effort to reassure her, though she saw right through my façade. "It's going to be all right, Michael."

But in that moment, I wasn't Michael, a 39-year-old writer that lived in Chicago with his wife and two kids. Right then, I was a scared, angry 18-year-old Ponyboy Curtis. I was mad at my oldest brother and grieving the loss of my other, driving for hours on end with the sole intention of getting as far from Tulsa, Oklahoma as I could.

"Daddy, are you sick?" It was my daughter that brought my attention back to the present.

Looking down at the girl, I couldn't stop the smile that creased across my face. I loved my daughter like I could never have imagined. Mary had wild brunette curls that fell around her pale face, and her bright eyes reminded me so much of her mother's. Her name was a testament to the fact that no matter how far away I moved, my past was always a part of my present. Marion, named after her grandmother.

"No Mary, I'm not." I smiled at her, and then straightened up a little and turned to my other side where Patrick, who looked so much like _his_ namesake it hurt, was slouched. He was fifteen and eight years older than his sister, which meant that he thought she was annoying and pesky.

"You keep frowning like that and your face will freeze that way," I told him, to which he rolled his eyes. I missed my little boy, the one that thought I was the greatest thing in the world and would sit in my office, playing with this trucks and trains for hours while I pounded out pages of a new book on my computer.

Teenagers were no picnic to raise, I was realizing. I could finally, after 21 years, understand why Darry had yelled at me so much. In fact, I wondered sometimes how he and Sodapop dealt with my surliness back then.

Patrick did not want to be in Oklahoma for his summer break, and he made sure that we knew it. We were there for the official reason of helping Nancy's youngest sister, Laura, through the final month of her first pregnancy, but I had other intentions as well. Nancy had somehow convinced me that I needed to confront my past and make amends with everyone that I used to know. She wanted to meet my family and my friends, the people that had been my life so many years before.

"Let's get our luggage," I suggested, taking Mary's hand on my right and earning a soft grin from her.

Nancy took Mary's other hand and Patrick strode beside us as we made our way to the baggage claim. Once we had our things, we went out to the front and waved over a taxi.

"Where to?" The driver asked jovially, and my old address almost slipped from my lips. Wordlessly, I handed him the paper with our hotel's address.

That night, with my family all sound asleep around me, I stared up at the popcorn ceiling, my stomach rolling in anxiety. I couldn't keep the memories of my last night in Tulsa from my mind.

* * *

_"I said I ain't goin', Dar, and that's final! I'm eighteen years old, damn it, and I can make my own decisions!" I hollered, so mad I felt like tearing the lamp from the table beside me and hurling it at a wall._

_"Apparently you can't, Kid, or you wouldn't be throwing your future away!"_

_"Like you did?" I yelled, glaring at him as his icy eyes tore through me. We were on opposite sides of the room, my bed between us. We were both conscious of what happened during a big argument four years ago, and that reminder made us careful to keep a few feet between us. No one wanted a repeat of that night, and this time, Sodapop wouldn't be here to play the peacemaker._

_Darry's face was thunderous. "Yeah, like I did!"_

_"Then why don't you go on to college then, if you want to so bad?"_

_"I gave up my chance, Ponyboy, but you've got yours right in front of you and you're gonna take it! There's nothing keeping you from it!"_

_It was three in the morning by now, and I was exhausted. Had it really been just a month before that Darry was beaming proudly at me as I held my OU acceptance letter in shaky hands, filled with wonder and excitement? _

_Two weeks ago, a knock on the door finally broke through our happy atmosphere. And boy, when we crashed, we really crashed. Sodapop… dead? It seemed impossible, but the soldiers at the door had the few personal items he'd been carrying with him. His dog tags were lost in an ambush, but I don't think either of us were ready to see those anyway._

_It took me fourteen long days of grieving and pain to finally come to my decision: I just wasn't going to college. I had no interest in an education, not when my brother was dead in Vietnam. I wasn't sure just what I was planning on doing, but I knew that I wouldn't be moving my things into a dorm room at a university. _

_Darry was having a real hard time accepting that though._

_"Sodapop is **dead**, Darry, and you want me to go on to OU and start my classes like nothing's changed?" I yelled, pushing down the tears that sprang to my eyes at Soda's name._

_Darry pulled a hand through his hair in exasperation. __"You of all people know that just 'cause someone dies that don't mean you stop living. You pick yourself up and you keep going!" _

_We were both silent for a minute, the only sound that of the crickets chirping outside. I clenched my fists in stubbornness. I wasn't going to change my mind._

_Then Darry spoke, his voice final and hard. "If you don't go to OU, you ain't staying here, Ponyboy. I can't let you keep living here." _

_I definitely wasn't expecting that. He was kicking me out now? I'm sure the shock and hurt showed on my face before I recovered. I masked my pain with anger and glared back at him defiantly. _

_"Well that's good, 'cause I haven't got any intention of staying in this damn house any longer," I snarled, storming to my room and tossing clothes and possessions into a bag._

_Darry stood in the doorway and watched me, his grim mouth set in a line of determination. _

_When I was finished, I took one last look around my room, the one that held so many memories of Sodapop and I, and heaved the bag up onto my shoulder, pushing past Darry and to the front door._

_"Where are you planning on going at three in the morning, Kid?" Darry asked, his voice calm now._

_"Anywhere but here," I said bitterly, stepping outside and walking down to my rusted car. I tossed the bag into the seat beside me and drove, not caring where I ended up. I had some money saved in my bank account, enough to get me to wherever I was headed, and I didn't plan on returning. Darry and I had shared our last fight._

_It was my excuse for leaving, being so angry with my oldest brother, but the underlying reasons were much more painful. Tulsa held too many memories of the people I lost. My mom and my dad… Dallas and Johnny… and now Sodapop. I just wasn't sure that I could handle staying._

_So that night, I started driving, and I didn't stop until I hit Chicago, a place that seemed as different from Tulsa as it could get. The radio was my only company, and I was careful not to wonder what Two-Bit would think of my leaving. I hadn't even said good-bye. _

_I stopped at gas stations whenever I needed to and pulled into fast food restaurants for my grumbling stomach, but I stayed far away from DX stations and Dairy Queens, ready to leave the past behind._

* * *

After I reached Chicago and found a cheap apartment to rent, I tried to leave all my old memories behind me. I wrote free lance articles for a couple papers and even got a few short stories of mine published in a book.

Money was still tight though and I was constantly scrimping just to pay the bills. That was when I started dating Nancy. Her dad worked at a publishing company that had bought some of my pieces, and a few months into our relationship, she was over at my little apartment, helping me unpack some of the boxes I had yet to touch. They were the ones that held all of the sentimental possessions that I wasn't quite ready to look at.

I went to get us drinks from the kitchen and when I came back, she was sitting on the floor, completely engrossed in reading a thick stack of papers. It was my old English theme, I realized. She was only on one of the first few pages, right at where I was describing the gang, and she had a little smile on her face.

I started to take the papers from her but she looked up at me, her innocent eyes wide. "Wait, can I read this?"

Even though I felt like refusing, I nodded and started unpacking all of the other boxes, setting things in drawers and shelves that I wasn't bound to look at, just trying to keep myself busy and stop from fidgeting as she read my past. Three hours later, she finally looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Michael… you have to publish this. I can show it to my dad."

"No," I was quick to shake my head, taking the papers from her hands and setting them in a corner of my closet. I didn't want my past dredged up so easily. She bit her lip anxiously, and she looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it, and for that I was grateful. After that though, the idea was planted in her mind, and she continually brought it up in casual conversation.

She was convinced that if I would just publish it, it could actually change things. It couldn't bring back my friends, my parents or my brother though, so I had no interest in opening that wound again.

In Chicago, I was an entirely different person and that was what I loved about the city. No one knew that I watched a hoodlum get shot down by the police, or that I saved a bunch of kids from a church fire. No one knew that both my parents were killed in a car accident, and no one knew that my brother died in 'Nam.

Except for Nancy, and she wasn't ready to forget anytime soon. As she and I grew closer, she slowly wore down my barriers. By the time I was ready to ask her to marry me, I had no money and no way to support the two of us. I didn't want to commit her to a life of poverty, so I gave in, finally, and took the theme to her dad's office.

Two days later, I got a call from my future father-in-law informing me that the company was eager to publish it.

It wasn't like I got famous after that or anything, but I did certainly make enough money to support us comfortably. And with her job as a nurse at the local hospital, we were decently well off. People around Chicago knew me pretty well, but in other cities, my book wasn't a huge success.

And I didn't work too hard to promote it, never granting interviews or book signings. I still wanted my past behind me, and sometimes I regretted ever letting that theme get published. I wound up telling Nancy everything, all about what happened after the end of the book and why I left Tulsa, and she was supportive. She understood that I needed time and space from my past, so she didn't push me to contact my brother.

Her own family was large enough for the both of us, with five brothers and sisters and seemingly endless aunts, uncles and cousins.

When she told me a few months back that she had to go to Tulsa to be with her youngest sister as she gave birth, I nearly choked on the coffee I was drinking. Out of everywhere in the world, her sister and her new husband had moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

With her soft voice and gentle eyes, she looked at me, "I think you should come with me and see your friends and brother again."

I vehemently resisted at first, but after a few days, I was slowly starting to give in. Clearly, I wasn't going to forget my past like I'd been trying to do, so I better make amends. Patrick was none too happy with our decision, but Mary was thrilled at the prospect of going on a month-long "vacation."

Lying in a hotel room in that town though, with the spot where the Dingo had once stood just down the road and my old home a mere twenty minutes away, I wasn't so sure. I was scared to death that Darry would slam the door in my face, refuse to speak to me. After all, I hadn't invited him to my wedding or even written him since we had argued so long ago.

But as Nancy woke beside me she gave me a reassuring smile and kissed me lightly. "Everything will be okay, Michael."

She got ready and woke the kids up, leaving for her sister's house before the clock even read nine in the morning. I had the day to myself, and I knew what I had to do. I had to face my growing fear.

* * *

Is Darry going to be happy to see Ponyboy? What happened to Steve and Two-Bit? How will things turn out? ... Seriously now, tell me, because I have no idea, haha. Just kidding. Kind of.


	2. If you'll let me

**Author's Note: **I replied to everyone's reviews, I promise, but it seems that the alert system is down, so thank you to everyone who reviewed. I hugely appreciate it. And for my anonymous reviewers... **Megan**: Thank you very much and I'm very glad that you liked it, and **Solana**: Thanks for the suggestions, I appreciate the help. I miss Sodapop too, he was always a favorite... poor guy.

Anyway, I'm not too fond of the beginning of this chapter, but Ponyboy does meet up with Darry in this one so hopefully it's not too dreadfully boring.

Any and all constructuve criticism, suggestions and reviews are always welcome.

**Previous Chapter: **Ponyboy returned to Tulsa with the intention of seeing Darry again, and he gave the background information for why he left and how his life has gone since The Outsiders.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. Marauder and the Q owns some plot ideas and character structures.

* * *

It was three hours later that I finally called a cab. I went through three different shirts (a blue button up, a white tee, and even the "Proud Dad" one that the kids gave me for Father's Day. It didn't take me long to decide that it wouldn't be good to spring the knowledge that Darry was an uncle on him before I even got a chance to say hello, and I reverted back to the blue button up).

I tried a couple different ties before I finally opted for leaving the top unbuttoned and packing away all the ties again.

Then I had the dilemma of jeans versus dress pants, which took me a good ten minutes. On the one hand, I wanted Darry to know that I was successful and that I did well for myself, which seemed to indicate that I should choose the dress pants. But on the other, I also didn't want to make this feel formal or stiff or uncomfortable, which pushed me toward the jeans.

I was gaining a new respect for girls and their million outfit changes. Nancy could go through four or so different clothing articles before she was finally ready to leave, and I'd always teased her about how late it always made us. I was pretty sure I'd never bug her about it again, though.

I finally wound up with jeans, a button up blue shirt, sneakers and the gold watch Nancy gave me for our ten-year anniversary. I was also quite aware of the fact that I was obviously not normal. I was going to see my brother; why was I so nervous?

I knew the answer to that though, of course, but I tried not to think about it as I gave the driver the address to our old house. I was hoping that Darry still lived there, and knowing him, he would. Darry was never one for change, and as long as something wasn't broken, he saw no point in abandoning it.

The second I stepped out of the taxi, I knew that I was right. The lawn was neatly cut, the woodwork freshly painted and the shingles newly replaced. Darry always did like to keep things well kept.

"Would you like me to wait, Sir?" The driver asked, and I turned my attention from staring at this house, the one that I spent eighteen years in, the one that was already forcing long buried memories back to my mind, to the cab driver.

"No thank you," I said and handed him his money, with a good-sized bonus. It was nice to not have to worry so badly about money like we used to have to. I could afford to tip now.

After five minutes of staring at the house, I finally walked up to the chain link gate, which was new, I realized. Our old one had been rusted and sagging, but this one was clean and fresh, the metal nearly shining in the sunlight. He must have replaced it, I realized, and then could have kicked myself. Of course he would have replaced it. Things didn't just stop after I left, I reminded myself. In fact, if I squinted a little closer, I could tell that the paint on the house was actually a slightly different shade from what it used to be. It had a little tint of yellow now.

I knocked at the wooden door and waited on the porch. I caught myself biting the nail on my thumb, a habit I had long ago kicked.

And then a caramel-haired woman pulled the door open. She had a few wrinkles around her eyes, but she looked well and happy, her brown eyes with a sparkle of merriment.

I was so shocked I stood in silence for a minute while she waited, smiling, for me to tell her what I wanted. "Uh, I'm sorry ma'am, I must have gotten the wrong house."

I started to step down the porch steps when her voice called me back. "Well who are you looking for? I might be able to point you in the right direction."

"Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Jr." I'm not sure why I added the junior to it—I'd obviously not find the senior anywhere around Tulsa…

She smiled with amusement, and then squinted a little closer at me, her eyes widening with surprise. "Oh my goodness, Ponyboy?"

Now that was a name I hadn't heard in years. Confused, I walked back to her, my brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Oh no, no you don't, but I recognized you from the old pictures. You haven't changed much since you were eighteen, have you?" She seemed to be talking almost more to herself than to me, but then she cleared her throat and spoke a little clearer. "I'm sorry, you've got the right house. Darry is out right now, but he'll be back within the hour if you'd like to wait."

I nodded slowly and followed her into the house, beginning to realize that maybe things had changed for Darry just as much as they had for me.

"Would you like anything to drink?" The woman offered as I took a seat on a brown couch that was also new.

"A water, please," I agreed, my mouth a little dry. When she wandered back to the kitchen to get my drink, I let my eyes scan the room. It was bright and cheery, light pouring in from the windows, and Darry's old armchair still sat in the corner. It was a little tattered but I had a feeling that maybe it was there more for sentimental purposes than for practical ones.

And then I got up, wandering over to the mantle place to look at the pictures there.

In a wooden frame was a five by seven of Darry and the woman that had answered the door; they were laughing and feeding each other cake, and I realized that she was in a white dress and he was in a tuxedo. He was married. My brother was married, I marveled.

I moved on the next picture, which was one of Darry standing with a man I didn't recognize.

To the right of that was our parents' old wedding photo, as faded as it was. It had been there for decades.

Beside that was a picture of Darry's wife in a hospital bed, with him crouched down beside her and staring at the little red bundle in her arms. The look in his eyes was something I had never seen on him before, but I recognized it instantly. It was the same way I looked in every picture we had of me and Mary or Patrick.

I checked the faded date scratched onto the side of the picture and realized that my brother had an eleven-year-old son.

I actually felt a little lightheaded for a second, almost like those headrushes you get when you stand up too quick, and I leaned against the wall to let my head clear. This was what time did to people, and this was what I got for being gone for so long. Besides, it wasn't as if I had stayed the same. I had a wife and kids too. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes away.

There were a few other random photographs that meant nothing to me, of Darry or his wife or son with people that I didn't know, and then tucked behind all of those pictures was a little black and white photo that brought tears to my eyes. It was of seven boys lounging around the porch, smoking and drinking. One was scowling, the boy beside him laughing cheerily. Over to the other side of that kid was an unsmiling, scarred boy, who was next to someone who looked about mean enough to scare the spots off a leopard. Then there was a well-muscled man, his eyes older than they should have been, sitting beside a kid that wasn't even looking at the camera, instead seeming to stare straight into space.

I moved on quickly, blinking rapidly to keep the moisture from my eyes, and wandered over to the bookshelf. There were a lot of how-to books on house upkeep or carpentry or car maintenance, and a few on gardening or cooking, for his wife I assumed. On the bottom shelf though were books with yellowed pages, books that probably hadn't been touched in years. _Great Expectations_, _The Carpet Baggers_, _Gone With The Wind_… I picked up that last book and turned it over in my hands, feeling all my memories rush back at me.

Maybe this reunion would be even harder than I thought. I gently set the book back on the shelf and stood up, just about to turn away when I noticed a familiar spine up in the top left corner.

_The Outsiders._

I pulled the book down. Some of the pages had been creased and the cover was worn. I opened it and flipped through the pages quickly, watching the words and numbers fly by, but then something fluttered to the ground from the back cover. I bent to pick it up and found a newspaper clipping from nearly two decades ago, one that told of P.M. Curtis' first published book.

It was probably the only time I'd ever been written about in the paper since I never gave interviews.

"He rereads that book about once every few years, you know." A voice from behind me made me jump guiltily and I hastily set my novel back on the shelf, with its newspaper clipping tucked carefully inside.

I turned and faced my brother's wife with a sheepish smile. "Thanks," I said, taking the water she offered me and sitting back on the couch. She settled into Darry's armchair, watching me curiously as the grandfather clock ticked away the seconds.

I was very uncomfortable, but she seemed at complete ease. Of course, she wasn't about to reunite with her brother again after two decades, now was she?

The front door swung open with a bang, startling me, and a little girl—she couldn't have been older than my own daughter—skipped in with a smile on her face. "Auntie Sally!"

At the word "auntie", I froze. This was obviously not my child, and Soda… well, that just wasn't possible. But then I relaxed a little. She must be related on Darry's wife's side of the family or something.

As the woman, Sally, I now realized, listened to the child's excited chatter, my attention was brought to the front door again as Darry shouldered his way in, somehow balancing four grocery bags in his arms.

He always did have a habit of trying to carry too much.

A dark-haired kid followed him in, holding one bag in his arms, and gave me a quizzical look. He didn't say anything though, just kept following his dad.

Darry's vision was limited so he didn't see me, slowly making his way to the kitchen, occasionally feeling with his foot or fingers to make sure he wasn't about to hit something.

"We dropped by Two-Bit's place on our way to the store, and this little squirt wanted to come along and see her favorite Aunt," Dar called out from the kitchen. I could hear cupboards opening and shutting as he started to put away the groceries.

I stayed frozen to my spot, completely overwhelmed in that instant. I actually took a second to wonder if I could somehow slip out the door without my brother seeing me. But I was an adult, old enough to leave behind those childish actions.

And besides, the girl had finally taken a breath and noticed me. Walking around to where I sat, she watched me, her green eyes wide with that childlike innocence.

"Who are you?" She asked boldly, and I felt my throat squeeze up. What was it about Tulsa that made me feel like I was fourteen again, waiting for my brother to yell at me for running away for a week? I had to keep reminding myself that Darry was no longer my guardian; he was a fellow adult now, my equal. And I hadn't been gone for a week; I'd been gone for two decades.

Before I could answer the girl, Darry called, "have we got company?" He stepped into the kitchen doorway with a polite smile on his face, which quickly froze. Sally glanced between him and I, and even the child picked up on the tension, hushing instantly. Darry's son walked back into the living room, wiping one hand on his jeans, and looked up at his dad to see what was the matter.

"Come on, Chrissy, let's go play outside," Sally suggested, taking the girl's hand and leading her out the front door. As she passed Darry and the kid, she nudged her son and nodded toward the outside, silently telling him to join her and Chrissy, which he did with a hesitant glance toward his father. She tossed Darry a supportive smile, much like the one my own wife gave me earlier.

Once the door shut behind them, the house was silent save for the gentle ticking of the clock.

Finally, I cleared my throat. "Long time, no see, Dar," I said wryly.

He forced a smile but it was weak. Abruptly turning his back to me, Darry walked to the kitchen. For a second, I thought he was just walking away from me, but then he returned with a beer for himself and a Pepsi for me.

I had been old enough to drink legally for 18 years, but Darry didn't see that. I just took the cold bottle with a nod of thanks.

"So you're married," I said, trying to break the silence.

Darry nodded, swallowing his beer. "Yup. Have been for 17 years now."

I nodded, silent again. What was I supposed to say? 'Yeah, me too?'

"Yeah, me too," I blurted out, and then could have kicked myself for being so blunt.

Darry, in mid-swig, choked on his beer and coughed for a minute before he finally recovered. Plowing on, I continued. "Got two kids, a son and a daughter. We're all in Tulsa for the summer, staying at the Marriott Inn. Nancy's sister is giving birth." I was just babbling, nervous and uncomfortable. "Hey, Two-Bit's got a kid?" I asked, switching topics so fast it took Darry a minute to catch up.

"Yeah, from his first wife. When'd you get married?"

"In '73. How many wives has ol' Two-Bit had?" I grinned, remembering the wild and crazy boy I'd been friends with years back.

"Just two."

I nodded and things fell silent again. My head turned around the room, noticing things I hadn't seen before, like Soda's dog tags hanging from a hook by the mantle. Right beside them was a framed picture of him, in uniform, staring off at something behind the camera and smiling. He looked just as handsome as ever, and I stood from the couch with tears glittering in my eyes.

Taking another sip of my Pepsi and wishing it was alcohol, I let my fingers trail over the dog tags, feeling the engraved letters there.

CURTIS  
SODAPOP P  
258-86-4400  
O POS  
SOUTHERN BAPTIST

I didn't hear Darry move, but then he was beside me. "I just got those about two years ago. Someone found a bunch in Vietnam and sent them back to the soldiers and their families."

I nodded to let him know I heard him, but I didn't talk, too afraid that my voice would break.

It musta been five minutes later before I finally turned my back on the wall and faced Darry again. I regained my composure, but I still felt overwhelmed, as I was sure Darry did too. We both needed a little bit of time to get used to the idea of seeing each other all these years later.

"I should go. I'm supposed to meet Nancy for lunch," I lied, setting my half-empty Pepsi on the coffee table.

Darry nodded, not even attempting to change my mind. "You gonna stop back by 'fore you take off again?" I could hear just a hint of hurt lying under his easy tone, and I flinched.

"If you'll let me."

Darry and I were looking at each other, brothers once but now strangers, and for just a second, I was sure that I felt us lapse back into that easy, comfortable relationship that we used to share.

"Of course," Darry said. He grinned at me and I smiled back for a second, but then the moment was broken when Two-Bit's daughter came running back into the house, Darry's son right behind her.

As she started to chatter to Darry, I gestured that I was leaving and slipped out the door. Sally was in the front yard still and she looked over at me as I started down the porch steps.

"Leaving already?"

I glanced around at the neighborhood that I'd grown up in, over at the Cade's old place which they'd long since moved out of and then back towards the park that everything had started at, and I nodded. "But I'll be back."

* * *

Aight, so what about Steve? Did he live, or did he die in Vietnam? What's Two-Bit up to? Will Ponyboy's new family get along with his old, if or when they meet?


	3. Maybe it was for the best

**Author's Note:** This one's got Two-Bit in it, and I hope I carried his character through well enough. Please let me know what you think.

Thank you very much to all my reviewers; I do believe I replied to everyone's, and if I didn't, I'm super sorry. I meant to, I promise! And for my anonymous reviewer, **Solana1**: I would definitely help you if I weren't so busy with everything right now. I'm kind of struggling to find the time to write my own stories as it is, but I'm glad you considered me! Thank you for the tip about Steve though, and for the review!

Any and all constructuve criticism, suggestions and reviews are always welcome.

**Previous Chapter:** Ponyboy met Darry and found out that he is married and has a son.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. Marauder and the Q owns some plot ideas and character structures.

* * *

After I left Darry's, I was just walking along the sidewalk of our old neighborhood. Nancy wouldn't be back at the hotel until later that day, around dinnertime, so I still had hours to myself. It was only two in the afternoon. 

I was very careful to stay away from the old park, not quite ready to relive that night of my life.

When I got to the field behind Spencer's Special, the one that we'd hung out at a few times, I found it wasn't there. In place of the long, waving grass was a small car sale lot. There were twenty or so cars in there, all with prices written across their front mirrors in big bubble letters.

I wandered on in, looking around at everything and remembering how 25 years back, Dallas, Johnny and I had chased a few kids around where this lot stood now.

For a minute, I just stood still, my hands stuffed in my pockets and the breeze blowing gently through my hair. Weird how things change.

"Are you interested in a great deal, Sir?" A cheerful voice from behind me called out. _Those damn car salesmen_, I thought, turning around to face the man with a polite smile plastered to my face.

"Naw, I'm just lookin'," I said, staring through the guy, my mind in the past even still.

I didn't catch the dead still look on the guy's face, and then the huge grin that spread from ear to ear. "Really? You sure? We got a real beauty over here, only $999.99."

"I don't need a new car."

"Okay, well then how about I interest you in somethin' else? What about, an' check this out, I'm gonna make this free, how about a reunion with an old buddy?"

I stopped in my tracks, right as I was walking away from this man, and everything clicked together in my mind. That voice, that grin…

"Two-Bit Mathews?" I smiled, turning back to face him and his goofy grin.

"The one and only. How ya been, Ponyboy?"

I stuck my hand out to shake his and he pulled me into a quick hug, still grinning as wide as ever. He'd barely changed since I'd last seen him, and I wondered vaguely how I'd not noticed right from the start.

"Pretty good, actually. I hear you got a kid now, man."

Two-Bit grinned again and I recognized that smile—the proud father one that I'd seen on myself at least once a day. "Sure do. Got her hair from my side of the family and her eyes from her mama's. Damn, Pony, it's been 25 years, at least."

"21," I corrected, "but yeah, it's been a long while."

My buddy just laughed, "I never was good with numbers."

"And yet you're selling cars now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Two-Bit cocked his own in that famous Mathews gesture, and he shrugged.

"For the moment. The boss says I could talk the stripes off a tiger, whatever that means," Two-Bit laughed again, and I couldn't help but join him. Back when we'd all been teens, he had an uncanny habit for getting out of anything with one of his crazy stories and a Mathews grin.

It didn't surprise me that he made his living now by talking people out of their money.

We were quiet for a minute or two, both of us thinking, I guess, and then he abruptly broke the silence. "Hey, you got some time?"

I checked my watch and I heard Two-Bit whistle long and low as the sun glinted off the gold. "Damn, you've been doin' well for yourself, huh?"

I shrugged uncomfortably, suddenly feeling guilty, and answered, "I've got a few hours. Why?"

"Let's get some drinks and catch up. I wanna hear what you've been up to," he wiggled his eyebrows and jogged back to the building where I saw him through the window talking to a man I assumed to be his boss. He came back a few minutes later with his car keys.

"You can just take off in the middle of the day?" I asked.

Two-Bit grinned crazily. "I just got in half an hour ago, so it ain't like they're gonna miss me too much."

"Aren't you supposed to be working normal work days?" I teased. "What made you so late?"

"Chrissy's ma was supposed to pick her up for the day, but she got sick and couldn't make it. I had to stay home with her 'til Darry dropped by and agreed to watch her."

I nodded. "Yeah, he said he picked her up from your house. She's a cute kid."

Two-Bit turned to me, "you've already seen Dar, then?"

"Yup."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, and I didn't elaborate. He tossed the keys to me then and stopped at a red Chevy coup that was sitting in the middle of the lot. "You drive."

I shrugged but slid into the driver's side.

Two-Bit turned to me right as we cruised out of the lot, "Oh, and if the boss asks, you're interested in this car, and we're taking a test drive."

I laughed—that was the old Two-Bit I'd known. It seemed he'd barely aged a day since I'd last seen him.

* * *

Looking around the dim bar, I chugged back a gulp of my beer. "So this is what ol' Buck is up to now?" 

Two-Bit nodded. "Yup. You remember, before you left he was already struggling with the rodeo business. Dal was one damn good rider, and when he wasn't around anymore, things started falling apart for Buck. Then he got kicked out of the circuit 'cause he got caught fixing a race. For a while there it didn't look like he was gonna recover, but then he started this place and he's doin' okay now.

"But what've you been up to? You know, one day you were there, and the next you were gone," Two-Bit said.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I knew I hadn't probably handled my leaving very well. I'd hurt a lot of good friends.

"I just had to get out, ya know? Soda… I don't know. I just couldn't handle it, I guess." It's funny how people always say more than they usually would just 'cause they've got some alcohol in their blood.

"I drove up to Chicago and started writing newspaper articles and little stuff like that for money. Then I met Nancy, and she got me to publish an old theme I'd written for English. It's what has kept us afloat a lotta the time. Money is still trickling in from it. But she an' I are married now, and we got two kids."

Two-Bit grinned. "So you're a daddy now, huh? Shit. It seems like it wasn't but yesterday that we was picking up those Socy girls from the movies." He grinned in memory, and then snapped back to the present. "Oh hey, you wanna hear what happened to that redhead?"

"Cherry? What about her?"

He leaned in close, like he was gonna tell me a secret, and said, "She went off to college and came back four years later, married to some old accountant. Then about ten years back, she was found dead. Some people say she overdosed on pills," the noises of clinking glasses and cheerful laughing in the bar around me suddenly filtered out, and all I could hear was my own thoughts.

"Suicide, you mean?" I asked.

Two-Bit nodded grimly.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling overwhelmed. Cherry Valence was dead. There was a somber atmosphere now, and Two-Bit had even lost his grin. He was quiet, probably thinking like I was.

"It's a shame, you know. She coulda really been somethin', but it was people's expectations of her that held her back. Maybe the Socs didn't have it so easy either. At least us, no one ever expected anything outta us so we could do whatever we wanted."

I was reminded of something I'd written in my book, something about how Two-Bit "sure understood things." No one would ever consider him smart, but he was a lot quicker and sharper than people gave him credit for.

"So you're selling cars now," I blurted out, anything to break the somber silence.

Two-Bit grinned, already forgetting what he'd said about Cherry, even though it would sit heavy on my mind for a good while after that. "Yup. I think I finally found somethin' I can do for a few years."

I frowned, thinking. "How many jobs have you had?"

"Oh, I don't know. More than most people have in a lifetime, that's for sure. I tried taking Steve's old job at the DX for a few years, fixing cars, but I'm all thumbs, Ponyboy. And 'sides, it was all Socs whose cars we was fixing." He laughed. "I got fired from that pretty quick after I sent old Paul Holden out with a loose engine that fell straight to the street when he was barely a mile away."

I chuckled. I could definitely see Two-Bit doing that.

"Then I tried being an announcer for the high school football games, but that got boring pretty quick. And after a few months, they caught on to the fact that I didn't have a clue what I was talking about.

"For a good year or so, I made pretty decent money selling encyclopedias, going door to door. Then was the telemarketing job, but around the time I quit that one, Buck was starting this place. I helped him out as a bartender for a while, and I still do sometimes on weekends, when it gets real busy.

I laughed, shaking my head. He sure was the same Two-Bit I'd known.

"So… how's Steve? He make it back from 'nam?" I finally swallowed my nerves and forced the question out. Inside, I was already preparing myself to hear that he had died.

Two-Bit chuckled. "Yeah, he did. Can't believe you don't know that, but I guess you wouldn't. But yeah, he came back. Had a few problems though, with drugs. It took a few years to get 'im straightened out. Darry and I finally staged an intervention, and he got back on the right track. He's a drug counselor now, believe it or not."

"Good, that's good," I nodded, finishing off my beer and trying to ignore the twinge of guilt that I felt in my gut. I'd left this place, this suffocating little town, the second I could and since then, I'd really done well for myself. But my family and my friends, the boys that had saved my butt more times than I could count, had stayed here, struggling just to make ends meet. None of them had it easy.

I'd made a better life for myself, gotten past all of this, and they hadn't. Maybe it wasn't my fault, but I still felt guilty.

Two-Bit studied me for a second before he smirked. "Come on." He stood up and motioned for me to follow him, which I did.

He drove this time, and I sat silently in the passenger seat, watching all the houses and places that I had grown up around fly past my window. The DX was now a Conoco, which was to be expected, I s'pose. Progression.

It still ignited a little spark of pain in my heart though—remembering Soda and how he used to flirt with all the girls around the gas pump. I could see him clearly in my mind, the golden hair and cocky grin.

I guess I had a faraway look on my face 'cause Two-Bit glanced over. "Maybe it was for the best. You know? Soda… he was too good for this world. Jus' like Johnny."

I took in a sharp breath, surprised again by my old buddy and suddenly remembering back to watching Johnny take his last breath.

"_Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold."_ Wasn't that what he'd said? I wasn't so sure I had carried through in my promise for him.

* * *

Sorry if there were any typos or anything, I'm in a bit of a rush. When will Ponyboy see Steve, and how will he react? How is the rest of the town doing? 


	4. That soon?

**Author's Note: **Took me a while, but here's another chapter. Hopefully, I'll have another one up soon too. I replied to everyone's reviews a while ago, but if by some strange chance you didn't get a reply, I'm sorry and I do appreciate your review. And **hawaiichick: **Ah, thank you! I'm glad you felt like Two-Bit was in character; I'm trying to find that balance of him as an adult, but still with his irresponsible, goofy tendencies. I hope you keep liking it!

Any and all constructuve criticism, suggestions and reviews are always welcome.

**Previous Chapter: **Ponyboy caught up with Two-Bit.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. Marauder and the Q owns some plot ideas and character structures.

* * *

Two-Bit drove us back to the car dealership and I hopped out right as his boss approached, a fake grin plastered on his face. "So what'd you think, Sir?"

I glanced at him, startled when I realized he was talking to me. "What?"

"Are you interested in the car? It's a real beauty, you certainly have an eye for cars."

"Uh, no thank you."

"Why not?" He shot back quickly.

"I… it just wasn't quite what I was lookin' for and I've got to talk it over with my wife anyway. She just about killed me a few months back when I bought a new fridge without tellin' her, so I can't even imagine what she'd do if I bought a car," I chuckled, the fib rolling easily off my tongue_. A good lie is all in the details_, I remembered Two-Bit saying years and years back.

Two-Bit smirked at me behind his boss's back, nodding his approval at my well-delivered deception, and ushered the man away then, chattering about something. I was left standing alone, and I stuck my hands in my pockets and shuffled on back to the road, starting off on another walk around the town.

I didn't realize Two-Bit was comin' back 'til he jogged after me, hollering my name. "Ponyboy, wait up a sec!"

Stopping instantly, I turned and smiled at the sight of him huffing and puffing as he caught up. "Hey, am I gonna see you again 'fore you leave?"

"Two-Bit, I'll be here the whole summer."

He shrugged, not accepting that as my answer. After a second, I replied, "Yes. You've still gotta meet Nancy, Patrick and Mary, remember?"

Two-Bit nodded, smiling, and clapped me on the back. "You all oughta come by tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Ol' Darry, Steve and I always get together for dinner at Darry's place every Friday night, with our families."

I nodded slowly, already getting ahead of myself. Nancy and the kids could come and meet my old friends, and see just where I'd come from. Darry hadn't kicked me out when I'd seen him earlier, so I didn't see how it'd be any kind of a problem. "All right. What time?"

Two-Bit told me the details and we agreed to see each other the next day, turning our separate ways for the night.

It was five thirty by the time I wandered into the hotel's lot, and by then Nancy was already back with the kids. She looked up at me curiously when I entered. "How did everything go?"

I grinned. "We're having dinner with them tomorrow night."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That soon?"

"Yeah, Two-Bit invited us."

A look of wariness settled on her face, but I chalked it up to meeting my family and let excited thoughts of fitting back into this life fill my mind.

* * *

"Patrick, you can't wear that," I sighed in exasperation, staring at the grungy outfit he had on. He looked like a homeless person. 

My son just barely nodded, obviously not listening to me as he tapped his foot to the music coming from his headphones. He had it way too loud—I could hear the words.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the headphones off. "Patrick! Go change for dinner."

"What's the matter with what I have on?"

I gritted my teeth and counted slowly to ten. "I'm telling you to put on clothes that don't have holes in them. Okay?"

He snorted and looked like he was about to snap out some smart alec remark, but shut his mouth real quick at the narrowed glance I gave him. "All right," he sighed.

"Damn it!" I heard my wife's soft voice curse from the open bathroom. I stuck my head in the door to see her trying to clasp on a string of pearls that I'd saved up to give her for our five-year anniversary.

"Need some help?" I offered, taking the gold clasp from her and carefully clipping the ends together. She held up her auburn hair and I kissed the nape of her neck, feeling her tense stance relax.

"I'm just nervous, I s'pose," she offered, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

"Don't be." I smiled at her and then wandered back out to finish getting ready myself.

It was a half hour later that everyone was finally ready to go. I surveyed the group with a smile, noting that Patrick had put on a nice pair of jeans and even a button up shirt, though he was scowling. And Mary looked just darling in a pink dress, her ringlets framing her innocent face. My wife was stunning in a pair of dark jeans and a green blouse, those pearls hanging delicately around her neck. But she always looked beautiful.

"Let's go."

We all piled into the car and I only had to reprimand Patrick once on the way there to turn his music down. It was a good day.

I parked out on the street behind what I assumed to be Steve's car and waited until everyone was out before I headed up the walk to the door. I knocked solidly and waited for someone to answer, my wife holding my hand tightly.

Darry's wife, Sally, opened the door with a soft grin. Her eyes moved quickly from me to my wife and then to my kids, and she met my gaze again with a slightly stunned expression. "P-Ponyboy, I didn't know you were planning on coming…?"

Nancy gripped my hand a little tighter, but I just squeezed hers reassuringly, still confident. "Two-Bit invited us to drop by."

"Oh… he hasn't made it over yet—"

"Who is that at the door, Sal?" Darry called, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor as I heard him walk closer.

"Oh goodness, please excuse my manners. Y'all come on in and sit down." Sally held the door open and ushered us inside. I was the first to step in the old house, and Darry met my eyes with a surprised glance. "Pony—"

Nancy walked up behind me then, and I put my arm around her waist, kissing her cheek with an easy grin. "Darry, this is my wife Nancy. Nancy, this is my brother." Dar's face stiffened instantly, but I assumed it was nothing more than surprise over seeing my family for the first time, and turned to place a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "And this is my son, Patrick, and my daughter, Mary."

Patrick had his headphones lying around his neck and he nodded at Darry, but at my stern glance, he rolled his eyes and stepped forward, holding out his hand for a shake, which Darry hesitantly met. Mary blushed shyly and looked down at her shoes, but mumbled a "hello."

Darry's son emerged from my old room and wandered over to us, and Sally set a hand on his shoulder. "This is Shaynne."

He nodded at us and then asked Darry, "can I go to Joe's house?"

"No, you can wait until tomorrow."

"But Dad—"

"No, I _said_ you can wait until tomorrow," Darry said with authority, giving his son "the look." I remembered getting that same narrowed look a few times and marveled over how strange it was that Darry had a son. Really, since he'd been almost like my father for four years, that would make this kid my brother.

But the circumstances had changed and no matter what Darry had been to me then, now he was just my sibling.

"Is ol' Steve here?" I asked, pulling out of my thoughts, eager to see him again. Maybe we'd never quite gotten along, but he used to be a good buddy to Sodapop, and we always had each other's backs.

Darry nodded and gestured behind him to the kitchen, and I stepped through excitedly, leaving Nancy and the kids by the door.

Steve was at the fridge, pulling a cold beer out and popping off the top as I wandered in, and he nodded a greeting at me. I guessed he'd heard me come in. "Hey Buddy, long time no see." I smiled at him and gave him a quick handshake.

"How've you been, Pony?" he asked, and I marveled over how strange it felt to hear that name again. His tone was a little wary and guarded, but I figured it was just because we hadn't ever really been that close before I'd left.

"Good, good. Nice to be back for a bit though, you know? I didn't realize how much I missed this place, I guess."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but the slam of a door halted him as Two-Bit's little girl ran in, leaping into Darry's arms. I walked back out to the living room to see him ruffling his "niece's" hair, and Two-Bit ambling in the front door.

"Pony, glad you could make it!" Two-Bit grasped my hand and then turned to my wife, who was standing awkwardly by the wall. He whistled and she blushed but grinned, "Golly Pone, how'd you land a beautiful gal like this?"

He took her hand and kissed it with his usual flourish, moving on again as my kids caught his eye. Clapping Patrick, who was looking surly in the corner, on the shoulder, he grinned cheekily. "Glory Hallelujah, I think your boy's got a scowl that could've made even Steve jealous, back in the day."

Hearing his name, Steve stepped in with his beer. "Watch your trap, Two-Bit. A couple of years may have passed, but I can still take you, easy." I noticed Steve's gaze fall on Patrick and his eyes widened a little. He looked away and downed another gulp of beer, then turned back and stared at Patrick for a minute. My son finally noticed and looked up, and Steve instantly dropped his gaze. I don't think anyone else noticed this exchange, all caught up in watching Two-Bit.

Two-Bit laughed heartily and winked at my wife, "Don't listen to Steve there. I was the best fighter of the group, for sure." Nancy blinked, startled, and shot a look my way, but I shrugged and grinned. And then Two-Bit was moving on again, catching sight of my daughter. "Whew, what a beauty! Pony, you must have to beat the boys away from her with a stick!"

Nancy laughed and my face paled a tiny bit at the thought of dealing with Mary dating. "Not yet, thank God."

Two-Bit chuckled and made his way through the rest of the room, greeting Darry and his wife and then Steve on his way to the kitchen. When he got to Steve, he "borrowed" the bottle of beer long enough to down over half of it and then handed it back with a wiggle of his eyebrows, darting off to the kitchen before Steve could do much more than glare.

I took my place beside my wife again, hearing the noises and voices ring in my ears with a gentle smile. This was how the house had always been before Soda left for Vietnam, before Johnny and Dally died—loud and chaotic. It reminded me of those lazy summer days back when I was fourteen, with boys hollering without any thought to neighbors.

"Did you add any pepper to this macaroni, Sally?" Two-Bit called from the kitchen. Darry's wife answered that she hadn't yet, and I heard Two-Bit open a cupboard. It squeaked as he pulled it open.

And then a fumble and a crash, a little scuffling, and a _whoosh_. "Oh shit. Shit shit shit! Damn it!"

Everyone in the living room looked at each other, and Patrick raised his eyebrows a little as Two-Bit continued showing off his impressive vocabulary from the kitchen.

The kitchen swinging door was pushed up and Two-Bit poked his head out. "Uh, Miss Sally? Could I borrow you for a moment?" As the door swung shut behind him, I saw a flame leap up from the stove, and Darry set his head in his hands with a groan as his wife hurried in.

* * *

What has Steve been up to? Will the tension settle out as time passes or will it bubble over and cause problems? What does Ponyboy's family think of his friends and brother, and vice versa? 


	5. They're dead

**Author's Note: **Rejoice, it's a long chapter! If that's a good thing; if not, well, then it's not _too_ terribly long, so bear with me? I changed some things in previous chapters (most notably, Darry has a son and Steve is a drug counselor) to tie this in with Marauder and the Q's amazing Steve-centered story, Cogs in the Machine, which deals with his life as a drug counselor. And I also fixed some of my horrible math mistakes--Ponyboy was gone from Tulsa for _21_ years, it's been _25_ years since the book took place, and he is _38_ now. So if you feel like checking the changes out, have fun! And if not, then no worries, you'll catch up easily enough.

I did reply to all reviews, promise, but the alert system is down again so you'll get them later. But I do appreciate all of the input.

Any and all constructive criticism, suggestions and reviews are always welcome.

**Previous Chapter: **Two-Bit invited Ponyboy and his family to dinner with what's left of the group, and Ponyboy accepted. Two-Bit lit the meal on fire within approximately half an hour of being there, though.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. Marauder and the Q owns some plot ideas and character structures.

* * *

It was an hour later that I calmed my grumbling stomach with a slice of cheesy pizza that Two-Bit had picked up to make up for charring our dinner. He still had his happy smile in place, if it had even ever left. "Two-Bit, I think you're the only person I know that can set a meal on fire, just by adding pepper. How on Earth did you even manage that?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I got the pepper, and then I was leaning over, and my hand hit my beer, which spilled, so I was reaching over to grab the bottle when my elbow knocked the gas knob up _a few_ notches…"

I was already shaking my head with a laugh though; he was definitely still the same old Two-Bit.

Chrissy took a slice of pizza in her little hands and shook her head. "Mommy said Daddy shouldn't be allowed in the kitchen."

"Oh she did, did she?" Two-Bit picked his daughter up in his arms and laughed. "Elaine never did forgive me for messing up that Christmas dinner…"

"Sorry Two-Bit, but I don't think everyone's idea of a good Christmas evening includes having to evacuate the house," Steve put in.

He just shrugged though, and Nancy looked at me with raised eyebrows and a grin. _'They're crazy,' _she seemed to be saying.

'_I know'_ I mouthed out and shook my head, laughing.

"Hey, Steve, where's Andy and Nick anyhow? I haven't seen them in a few weeks."

My attention turned to Steve at the mention of these two people I had never heard of. He gulped back a big swallow of his beer and leaned against the wall with a smirk. "If you'd made it last week, I brought them then. Karen's got them this weekend."

"Well I was unavoidably tied up," Two-Bit announced with a cheeky grin, which both Steve and Darry shook their heads at. I frowned in confusion but kept quiet, reminded again that no matter how easily I talked to them now, I _had_ been absent for 21 years and I did not fit back into this life like I had hoped. I hadn't even known that Steve had kids, and I didn't know their ages or middle names or what they looked like or anything. And I sure didn't know what it was Two-Bit was talking about…

"Daddy," Chrissy called, catching everyone's attention as she tugged at Two-Bit's shirt.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Instead of saying anything, she just pointed to a plate of chocolate cookies that were set on the counter, just out of her reach.

"You already had a cookie, Chrissy. You know the rule—only one."

"Da-_a_-ddy," she repeated, a pout starting to form on her face.

I noticed Darry and Steve exchange a glance behind Two-Bit's back as he shrugged and handed his daughter another chocolate cookie anyway, despite his previously stated rule of "only one."

Chrissy's demand had broken the silence and conversation started up again. Somehow, the group moved out to the front porch. The old swinging bench was still there, although it had been rehung with new, safer chains. There was also a rocking chair that Two-Bit sat in, his daughter perched on his knee. Steve hopped up on the railing with another beer and Darry lifted his son up to sit beside Steve and then leaned back beside him, his wife tucked in by his chest.

That left the swinging bench for my group, so Nancy and I sat on one side with Patrick beside me. Mary climbed up on her mother's lap and set her head against her shoulder, yawning.

Everyone sat around talking as the sun set, and I mostly stayed silent, listening to the easy banter. This was what I should have been a part of for all those years.

"Michael…"

I turned to my wife and she gestured to the sleeping girl on her lap. Mary had the most peaceful expression on her face, her little eyelids shut softly. I grinned and pushed her bangs from her face. When I glanced around, I saw that Two-Bit seemed to have the same problem. Chrissy was fast asleep against his chest, and he was carefully trying to scratch his nose without waking her.

"Here, you two can set the girls on the couch if you'd like," Sally offered, standing up. I nodded and took Mary from my wife, holding her to my chest and walking through the door that Sally held open for me, right behind Two-Bit.

We both set our daughters down on opposite sides of the couch and I tucked Mary's hair back again before following my friend to the porch.

I took my place between Patrick and Nancy and Two-Bit returned to the chair, pushing up his sleeves and propping his feet up on the rail in front of him.

Steve pulled a cigarette out from his pocket and lit up, offering the pack to Darry, who shook his head. Two-Bit took one with a nod of thanks, but I shook my head when Steve offered the pack to me.

Nancy hated smoking and she got me to quit after only a few years of marriage. I had the feeling she wouldn't take kindly to me starting up again.

When I shook my head no to a cigarette, Steve raised an eyebrow. "Really? You used to smoke like a weed, but you quit?"

I winced and shot a quick glance at Patrick to see if he had heard. I never had told him and had even been lecturing him on the evils of smoking ever since I caught him and his friend Jacob with a pack of cigarettes outside the school one day. But thankfully Patrick had his headphones on and probably wouldn't even notice a bomb dropping.

"Yeah, I gave it up years back."

"Huh." Steve flicked his ashes off the side of the porch. "So what else have you been up to, Ponyboy?"

"Oh, nothing too big. Just writing, really."

He nodded, "you always did have your nose stuck in a book. Half the time I don't even think you were really on Earth like the rest of us."

His tone reminded me of back when I was fourteen and we didn't get along. He never really understood me, and he always seemed to think I was useless. There was something reminiscent of that old thought in his voice right then, but I let myself skip over it instead of trying to drudge something up.

Two-Bit glanced back and forth between us though, picking up on the extra tension, and blurted out, "I saw Marcia the other day. You remember her, Ponyboy?"

I frowned, trying to figure out who he was talking about. It finally clicked together though and I thought about the dark-haired girl that had been sitting with Cherry that night at the movies. "That chick you tried to pick up at the Nightly Double? What'd she have to say?"

"I didn't stop to talk, but she looked good. A little more worn out, but fine. Had a big ol' rock on her finger."

I nodded and things fell silent again until Steve hopped off the railing, stubbing out his cigarette on the wood. "I oughta be leaving. Thanks for the dinner though. I'll see you all later," he said. When his eyes fell to rest on me, he said only, "It was nice talkin' to you, Pony." And his gaze was drawn to Patrick, who just nodded at him. He stared for a second and then shook his head, abruptly turning around and hopping off the porch.

Patrick glanced at me, wondering what that was about, but I just shrugged. I knew, of course, but my kids didn't know too much about my past. I'd have to discuss it all with Patrick sooner or later—sooner was more like, now that he was seeing the people that were a part of my childhood—but I had put it off for as long as I could. I guessed I'd have to tell him all about his namesake soon.

Steve's departure spurred the rest of us to start getting up, and Two-Bit stood and stretched lazily. "Well, I better get Chrissy and head out, too. Janet's coming by early tomorrow morning to pick her up," he turned to make his way in the house. "Oh, sorry 'bout that fire, y'all," he added as an afterthought, but Sally just shook her head and grinned.

Nancy got up to go get Mary and I gave Patrick the keys to open the car for his mom to set Mary in the backseat. I stayed back a second, after everyone else was gone, and talked quietly with Darry on the front porch. Sally had already gone back inside.

"Thanks for havin' us over, Darry. It was fun. Maybe we c'n all go out next weekend, too. I'll treat you guys to dinner or something," I was grinning, but Darry's face was tense.

"I don't think so."

My smile faded a little at the clipped tone, and he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It was nice meeting your family, Ponyboy. I'll talk to you later."

And with that, he disappeared inside.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the screen door, but I finally forced my feet to move and shuffled back to the car. I drove to the hotel, my mind barely even registering what I was doing. I kept replaying that scene with Darry over and over in my mind, wondering what it was I had done wrong.

Nancy tried to talk to me at first, but she soon realized something was the matter and she stayed quiet and let me think.

When we got back to the hotel though, after the kids were asleep, she leaned over and set a hand on my shoulder. I was in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out just what had gotten Darry so upset.

"What is it, Michael?"

I sighed and told her what my brother had said, and she fell silent, her expression not one bit surprised.

After a minute, she whispered, "don't take it too personally. Try not to let it get to you. I'm sure he didn't mean it in a rude way."

I just nodded and closed my eyes, not ready to talk to her just yet about this. I didn't really want to discuss it right then.

* * *

The next morning, Nancy was up and getting ready when I began to stir. She was finishing her hair, humming a song I didn't know the words to, and Mary was already dressed. Patrick, however, was still fast asleep.

"You didn't wake Patrick?" I asked as I dragged in to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Nancy shook her head and set her brush down on the counter, turning to face me with a soft expression. "I think it's about time you talk to him."

I sighed, but she plowed on anyway, "He's finding things out about you that he's not sure what to do with, and he needs to hear everything from you, rather than from someone else. This is a good opportunity for you to bond with him, and I want you to take it. I'm bringing Mary with me to my sister's, but Patrick can stay here with you."

She looked pretty stubborn and I didn't think arguing would do any good. Besides, I had known this was coming. So I nodded wearily. "Tell your sister hi for us."

"I will." Nancy kissed me on the cheek and pulled the brush through her hair one last time before grabbing her purse. "Come on Mary. Say bye to your Dad."

My girl hugged my leg tightly, "Bye Daddy," and then skipped off to grab her mother's hand. Nancy grinned at me and then slipped out the hotel door. I could hear Mary's voice as they walked down the hall, but it eventually faded out and all I could hear was Patrick's snoring.

I looked at my son again, sprawled across the bed, taking up as much room as he possibly could, and shook my head.

By the time I was out of the shower, Patrick had still not woken. I figured he could use some good rest, so I went down the street to bring back breakfast. It was eleven when I returned, and he was still snoring peacefully.

I debated with letting him sleep a little longer, mostly just because I didn't want to be the one responsible for waking the sleeping bear, but then sighed. "Hey, get up." I shook his shoulder a little, and he cracked one eye open.

"Umhhhnnn." He shut his eye again and buried his head in the pillow, his breathing starting to even out again.

"Patrick, it's eleven. Get up!" I shook his shoulder again and he swatted at my hand, groaning again. "Hey, the food is here now. If you don't wake up, you won't get any breakfast."

He fell silent for a moment and then, with a heavy sigh, threw the covers back and sat up, glaring at me. He mumbled something again, but damned if I knew what he was saying. Instead of trying to figure it out, I just held the muffin out to him as a peace offering, which he snatched from my hand irritably.

We ate in silence and by the time we were finished, he was far beyond falling back asleep. At my prompting, Patrick got up to take his shower and get dressed. And I was so busy thinking about what I would say to him and how I would say it that I didn't even reprimand him for his choice in grungy clothes.

"Why didn't Mom wake me up to go Aunt Alexa's?" He asked when he shuffled out of the bathroom, his hair sticking up every which way.

"She thought we should spend the day together."

Patrick eyed me warily, as if he thought I was kidding, and then snorted in laughter when he realized I wasn't. "What, are you gonna take me to the fair?" He laughed again, and I frowned.

He used to like it when I took him to the fair.

"No, I'm gonna talk to you. There's some stuff we need to discuss."

He groaned, "oh God, is this the birds and the bees talk? 'Cause I really don't think I need to hear it… I'm pretty sure I've got it all under control."

"No, it isn—what do you mean you've 'got it under control'?" My eyes had narrowed and I was staring at my son, who just rolled his eyes.

"I mean that I don't need to have that talk, nor do I want to."

"Are you having sex?" I demanded. The kid didn't even have a girlfriend… I didn't think I needed to have that talk until he went on his first date.

"Dad!"

"What? Answer the question."

"No, not yet."

"Not _yet?_" Lord, this talk was just getting worse and worse, and we hadn't even come near what I had begun with the intention of telling him.

Patrick sullenly crossed his arms, but I wasn't giving up that easily. "What do you mean _not yet?_ Are you planning on having sex?"

"Like I'd tell you if I was."

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" I asked, genuinely hurt. He used to tell me everything.

He just glared and looked pointedly at my fist, which was clenched so tightly the veins in my arm were sticking out. I consciously loosened my grip and took a deep breath. "You ready to go out?"

He shrugged and nodded, and I eyed his hair. He caught sight of my look and sighed, turning to go run a comb through it, at least.

* * *

"Why are we _walking?"_

"Because I don't want to pay for a cab."

"_I"ll _pay for the damn taxi." He pulled his jacket tighter, as if he were actually cold in the 70 degree, cloudy weather, and frowned.

"Hey, watch your mouth. And how do you have money for a taxi?"

"The Simpsons paid me to mow their lawn once a week before you brought us here for the summer," he sulked.

I shook my head, pretty sure I would never hear the end of how I had "ruined his life" by taking him to Tulsa. We'd only been here a few days but he was already sure he hated it. "Walking's good for you."

"So get a treadmill," he grumbled, and I chose to ignore his latest remark.

We were walking down the sidewalk and were already a good distance away from the hotel. I wasn't really sure where I was planning on going, but I wound up taking us toward my old neighborhood, where Darry still lived.

Patrick eyed the houses warily, and I noticed with a frown. "Are you sure this is safe?" he asked.

"I grew up in this neighborhood, Patrick," I snapped, trying to keep my voice relaxed. It was my own fault that he hadn't ever been exposed to the poorer side of living.

"_Are_ you sure this is safe?" He repeated with a roll of his eyes.

I was about to snap out how yes, it was perfectly fine. I had grown up here as a kid and lived to tell the tale and he oughta realize that money—or, more efficiently, a _lack_ of money—doesn't make a person mean or scary or bad. But then I stopped and thought about Tim and Curly Shepard, the Brumly boys, hell, Dallas and Steve and Two-Bit even, and I paused.

"Yeah, it's fine," I said, with less conviction than I had originally held.

We fell silent again and the next thing I knew, I was stopping short and staring at a rusted metal jungle gym and a cracked concrete fountain.

Patrick kept walking and wound up a few steps ahead of me before he realized I had stopped. He turned around. "What?"

I shook my head, "nothing." Walking slowly and letting my mind take everything in, I headed toward the bench and sat down. "Getting tired, old man?" Patrick grinned, sitting beside me.

"Do you know how you got your name?"

Patrick blinked, catching up to me and switching gears to take in my quick subject change. "Yeah, it was your brother's, right?"

I nodded and shrugged. Kind of. "My brother's name was Sodapop Patrick, and mine is Ponyboy Michael."

"I thought Ponyboy was just your nickname."

"Nope. It's my real name. And I went by it all my life, up until I moved to Chicago." Patrick snorted in laughter, and I glared at him.

"What? I just can't picture a teacher or someone calling you Ponyboy."

"Well they did. Everyone did."

"So what's your other brother's real name?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Darrel Shaynne."

Patrick was disappointed. "Why didn't he get a weird name?"

"He was named after my dad."

"He's dead, right?"

I grimaced a little. I really _hadn't_ told him much about my past, had I? "Yeah, he's dead. Him and my mom died in a car accident when I was thirteen, and that was when Darry took over raising us."

Patrick was quiet now, no longer smiling. Mentioning that accident always did have the power to silence people. Things just didn't seem as funny after something like that.

"Two-Bit and Steve—you remember, those guys you met last night?—grew up with us. They were good friends. Steve and Soda were real close, and then there were two other guys in our group: Johnny and Dallas."

"When are we gonna meet them?"

"You won't. They're dead."

"Oh."

"And I saw both of them die in the same night."

* * *

After I explained everything to Patrick, from finding Johnny in the lot all beat up to the week in Windrixville to Soda's being drafted to my fight with Darry the night I left, he sat quietly, digesting everything.

"That guy you two killed, Bob…" I winced a little at his blunt choice of a verb, although I guess it was true. "That happened here?"

I nodded and stood up, gesturing for him to follow me as I walked over to the fountain. "They tried to drown me in this, and Johnny stabbed him right here." I leaned down and squinted, finally finding the now-faded but still present rust colored mark on the concrete.

Patrick's face was a little pale, and he stepped back a foot.

I was going to talk again, but when I saw his expression, I stopped. It was a bit much for him to take in all at once.

He sat down on the edge of the fountain beside me and stared out across the park. "So that's what that book you wrote is all about?"

"Yup."

"Why haven't you ever mentioned it?"

I took a few seconds to answer, collecting my thoughts and figuring out just what I wanted, or needed, to say. "Everything that happened, my parents' dying, the stabbing, the church fire, Johnny's and Dallas's deaths… it all happened so quick. It was hard to take in. And it was all right when Soda was around, and even after he got drafted, I just kept telling myself he'd be back. But when he died too, I couldn't take it. Tulsa held too many awful memories, and I didn't want to be here anymore." I paused to watch a squirrel scuttle across the grass, picking at the ground every few feet.

"That fight with Darry… it was just my excuse to leave. I would have found any reason to get out. And once I left Tulsa behind, I didn't want to think about it. I guess you could say I felt guilty about taking off, but I still wasn't ready to deal with my skeletons."

"So you were running away from your mistakes," I could hear the changed tone in Patrick's voice, and could have groaned.

"Yes. And that's why I know what I'm talking about when I tell you not to."

He was quiet, and then he opened his mouth to say something but shut it again before he could. "What?" I prompted, nudging him with my elbow.

"Well, I was just gonna say… when you were my age, you messed up. A lot. And you were friends with guys that had police records and stuff like that. But you hate Jacob just because he gets into trouble with the school a lot…"

I winced, trying to figure out how to sidestep this. "I never said I _hated_ Jacob…"

"_Dad_."

"Okay, okay. Look, Patrick, what you've gotta understand is that I know a lot more than you give me credit for. I've been through all this stuff, so when I tell you that I know trouble when I see it, I mean it. And you've got opportunities that I didn't ever have. You can really do things and go places, so I don't want to see you mess it up. I don't want to see you end up like Dallas."

Patrick shot me a look from the corner of his eyes. "I'm not suicidal."

"Dallas wasn't either," I shot back, defending my old buddy even as I saw him in my mind, holding that empty gun up with a bitter smile… the bullets jerking through his body and sending him to the ground, smirking even in death.

I shuddered. "Sometimes, all it takes is one mistake to ruin something. And I'm not necessarily talking about Dallas, but think about what he would have become if he had lived. I loved my old friend, but he wouldn't have become anything more than a hoodlum. I don't want to see that happen to you. I want you to make the right choices."

Patrick was quiet then, and I hoped I had finally gotten through to him. It was a lot harder to raise a kid than I had ever thought, and I really never did give enough credit to Darry. I could understand now, finally, just why he had always been so frustrated with me when I didn't do my homework. And I could see that my refusing to go to college had near killed him. I imagined Patrick telling me that he wouldn't be continuing in school, that all of my and his hard work through the years was going to waste because he didn't want to just get through four more years… it chilled me to the bone.

"Come on," I said, standing up abruptly. "Let's get some food."

* * *

What's wrong with Darry? Will things work out? What's up with Two-Bit being "unavoidably busy?"


End file.
